


This Is It Boys, This Is War

by jono74656



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, PUSSYSNATCHER!, She knows why, Silly Warblers, Sue Schemes, That last tag was for Rav, World War Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jono74656/pseuds/jono74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sue Sylvester is deeply displeased when the Warblers steal the Nationals trophy. She worked damn hard coaching that glee club, that trophy is HERS.</p><p>Featuring POW!Trent, Becky as Sue's ADC, and Hunter Clarington's precious pussy.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhat Crack-tacular Sue-centric rewrite of Glee 4x07 'Dynamic Duets'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is It Boys, This Is War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raving_liberal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/gifts).



> This fic idea was bouncing round my head last night, and until I wrote it down I could not get to sleep...
> 
> Basically, Sue helped coach the Glee club to Nationals, so she feels a certain ownership of the trophy right?
> 
> Silly Warblers stealing HER trophy.....
> 
> Dedicated to raving_liberal. She knows why ;-)

This Is It Boys, This Is War

 

Sue Sylvester scowled to herself as Becky left her office. Despite having joined up with that club of costumed do-gooders, Becky's loyalty lay first and foremost with Sue, and she had reported the latest intel to her as soon as possible.

She had worked hard coaching that pathetic group of squalling hormonal teens masquerading as a glee club to a National title, and that trophy was as much hers as it was Schuester's.

That the bunch of privileged pretty boys from Dalton Academy thought they could waltz into her school and steal HER trophy incensed her, and she determined then and there that they would be made to pay for their insolence.

She nodded firmly to herself and stood up, heading out of the door at a brisk pace. She had work to do.

…........................................................................................................................

Sue had been honestly surprised to find she recognised the Warbler she had run into at the Lima Bean. He had once been a McKinley student, but had transferred to Dalton after being bullied mercilessly for being overweight. 

She could use this to her advantage, all McKinley students, past and present, were conditioned to fear her.

She collected her drink from the barista and crossed to slide into the seat across from him, enjoying the way he stared up at her and blanched when he recognised her.

“Trent Nixon. Small world.”

He gave her a nervous little nod,

“Coach Sylvester.”

Her lips drew back in a mirthless smile, and what little colour remained in his cheeks drained away.

“Your little boyband has stolen something of mine. I want it back.”

He gulped, and she watched him frantically racking his memory. This went on for nearly a minute before she put him out of his misery.

“As you may or may not be aware, New Directions achieved the National title last year in no small part due to my own coaching. As such I feel a certain ownership of the trophy they brought back from Chicago. The trophy has gone missing, and left in its place was a laptop with a video message from someone wearing a Dalton blazer. Only a Warbler would have motive to steal a show choir trophy, so I know it was one of you.”

Throughout her recitation he had gotten more and more nauseous looking, and he finally just held up a napkin, waving it like a particularly cheap white flag until she stopped speaking, looking at him expectantly.

“I overheard our new captain say something about sending New Directions a message, but I didn't know it had anything to do with the trophy.”

She arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

“New captain? What happened to the Weaselly Wonder?”

“After the Warblers got knocked out at the Regionals level again, the administration at Dalton headhunted the leader of a show choir out of Colorado Springs. He took his military school choir to a Regionals victory, and though they got knocked out in the first round at Nationals, it's still further than the Warblers have ever gotten.”

“Military school? Interesting. That explains the unexpected boldness of his opening move. Very well then, he wants a war, I'll give him one. You're coming with me.”

He spluttered at her, incredulous,

“W-w-what!?”

“I'm interpreting the theft of my trophy as a declaration of World War Glee. Until further notice, as a member of the Warblers you may consider yourself a prisoner of war. Don't worry, Sue Sylvester is an independent signatory of the Geneva Convention, I don't mistreat POWs.”

With that she glared at him until he stood, and meekly followed her out the door and into her Le Car. After the short drive back to McKinley she delivered him into the custody of her Cheerios with orders to treat him like a guest rather than a prisoner. 

She then retreated to her office command centre, attended by her aide-de-camp Becky, and began googling both the Warblers new leader-whose name Trent had divulged in exchange for a promise that none of her Cheerios would molest him-and the military school he had transferred from. Everyone had a weak point, all she had to do was find his.

…......................................................................................................

Her judicious google-fu had turned up the name of the military school that Mr. Clarington had attended prior to Dalton; and she'd soon found video online of his former show choir performing. 

The performance videos had been enough to confirm her suspicions that anyone whose rise was a meteoric as Clarington's had to have made enemies on his way up. She had tracked down the Facebook profile of the young man glowering at him from the back of the choir and struck up a conversation with the opening gambit of “So you hate Hunter Clarington?”

The discontented young man turned out to be the previous leader of the military school choir, supplanted, marginalised and finally forced out by the younger, more ambitious Clarington. 

When she promised to use whatever he told her against Clarington he turned out to be a goldmine of information, and in short order her agile mind had concocted the perfect plan to prey upon what appeared to be his sole weakness, his cherished cat, the unimaginatively named Mr. Puss.

…...............................................................................................................

 

She sent Becky out to track down Brittany, and as the blonde strolled in pinned her with a cold stare.

“Brittany. I have a mission you are uniquely suited for. If you succeed, you will earn back the head Cheerio position.”

Brittany stared at her, nodding slowly as her statement slowly sunk in.

“As you are aware Brittany, the Warblers have stolen the glee club's trophy. In order to get it back we need leverage, something to trade with. I'll provide a distraction, you sneak into Dalton a bring back this cat.”

She slid a picture of Mr. Puss across the table, cringing inwardly at the soppy look Brittany adopted at the sight of the cat. 

“According to my source, the cat gets put down for a nap between 3 and 4. I'll start the distraction at 2.55, then you grab the cat. Understood?”

Brittany nodded, a vapid smile on her face.

“Be sure that you understand Brittany, fail me in this and you're off the Cheerios. Permanently.”

With those parting words she swept from her office, checking up on her guest-age Trent to see he remained un-molested by the Cheerios before she climbed into her Le Car. She had a distraction to create.

…............................................................................................................

Her Le car screeched to a halt in front of the main doors to Dalton, and she stormed in, grabbing the nearest terrified student and demanding to be shown to the Warblers. 

Minutes later the gibbering fool pushed open the doors to an overly ostentatious library, and she was met with the incredulous stares of the cadre of blazer-clad songbirds she'd come to see.

The rodent-featured politician's brat who'd been such a pain for her sweet Porcelain last year approached with a smarmy smile on his face, but the sight of the near Schuester-ian amounts of product in his hair caused her nostrils to flare with rage, and he hastily backpedalled, revealing the smug countenance of the Warblers new leader.

“Judging by the tracksuit, you must be Sue Sylvester.”

She nodded tersely, unwilling to show her surprise that he knew who she was.

“Clarington. You have something that belongs to me.”

“I can't imagine what that could be. We deliberately avoided anything to do with your precious Cheerios, and your long-standing dislike of the New Directions is well known.”

A venomous smile twisted her mouth, and the smug expression slowly dissolved from his face.

“Your information is out of date, boy. I helped coach that glee club to its National title last year, and as far as I'm concerned that makes the trophy mine.”

Clarington was visibly shaken by this news, but rallied quickly, putting on a bold front. 

“If you want the trophy back, convince Blaine Anderson to transfer back to Dalton, back to the Warblers where he belongs. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

Sue threw her head back as harsh laughter spilled from her throat, the Garglers quailing in the face of her mirth. Clarington retreating back into the group as they closed ranks in fear.

“Honestly, if you knew the first thing about Sue Sylvester, you'd know she doesn't respond well to ultimatums. Besides, you haven't even asked about my leverage yet. You took something of mine, so I took something of yours.”

The Warblers looked around uneasily for several long minutes, while Sue grew more and more impatient with the fact that they hadn't noticed one of their team-mates was missing. She was about to put them out of their misery when another Warbler, a lean boy with dyed-blonde hair, suddenly let out a soft cry of alarm.

“Where's Trent? He never showed up to class this afternoon and he's not answering his phone.”

“Trent Nixon is enjoying the hospitality of the William McKinley Cheerios as my prisoner of war. He has not been harmed or molested in any way. And will be returned to you safely in exchange for the trophy.”

The Warblers began muttering amongst themselves, but she was distracting by her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and a smirk curved her lips at the picture message Brittany had sent of herself holding Clarington's precious pussy. She just had to keep these fools distracted long enough for Brittany to escape with their bargaining tool and then she could leave, before the stench of Smythe's hair product poisoned her.

The confab between Warblers abruptly ended, several of them looking discontented as Clarington swaggered towards her.

“If Blaine transfers back in exchange for us returning the trophy, it will more than compensate for the loss of Trent's vocals. Keep him.”

She hadn't expected the fool to sow the seeds of his destruction so quickly, and chuckled inwardly as she thought of the hidden microphone in her lapel. Lopez had been right, these privileged idiots were all too quick to incriminate themselves. Once she played back the recording to Trent, he'd be a useful asset to bring Clarington down; especially given that the number of Warblers currently glaring at their leader indicated Trent had a certain amount of support in the group. 

She hid her jubilation behind a look of disgust, staring him down with a vicious sneer.

“I thought the chipmunk over there was a piece of work, but you actually sicken me. I'll be sure to let Trent know how concerned you were for his safe return.”

She swept a glare across the entire group, noting with some amusement that none of them dared meet her gaze. Obviously stories of her greatness had spread even as far as this bastion of privilege. 

Turning sharply on her heel, she left the room at a brisk pace, ignoring the urgent whispers building to a roar of noise behind her as her perfect sense of direction led her to the main entrance. She climbed into her Le Car and drove off, engine roaring.

She'd provided the best distraction she could, hopefully Brittany had gotten away clean with the goods.

…..................................................................................................................

When she got back to McKinley she quickly checked up on Brittany, making sure the girl had got back from Dalton safely. 

She was unsurprised to find the blonde in the room where Trent was being 'guarded' by the Cheerios, Mr Puss cradled in the Warbler's arms. Brittany beamed at the coach as she walked in, clearly proud to have accomplished the mission given to her.

A crooked finger and a curtly delivered “Phone,” delivered Trent's cellphone into her hands, and she snapped a quick photo of him clutching the cat before scrolling through his contacts. She was disappointed to note he didn't have Clarington's number, but settled for sending the photo to every number where the surname was listed as 'Warbler' along with the message:

{Tell Clarington I now have two bargaining chips. He returns the trophy or I'll shave the cat bald and deliver the fur to him in individual baggies.

Sue Sylvester.

PS. Also I'll tar and feather your fellow Warbler so he can stand in as your new mascot.}

 

Satisfied, she returned Trent's phone, then dismissed Brittany. She didn't have to worry about the blonde blabbing to the costumed club, none of them would believe her if she did.

With a faux-sympathetic look on her face she turned to Trent, fishing the recorder from inside her tracksuit and playing back the recording of her conversation with Clarington and the rest of the Warblers.

His face was a study in unguarded emotion as the recording played through. From happiness when the blonde Warbler noticed his absence to blatant outrage at Clarington's flat dismissal of his importance to the Warblers.

The minute the recording finished he was yanking his phone from his pocket and began tapping furiously at the screen. After several moments he looked up at her, a steely glint in his eyes that was quite disconcerting. It was like staring down an unexpectedly angry sheep.

“Can you send me a copy of that recording?”

She stared at him wordlessly for a second, then responded simply,

“Why?”

A devious smile flickered across his features, looking quite out of place on his usually sunny face.

“The Warblers stealing the trophy from McKinley is technically theft. Due to the competition between glee clubs most schools would laugh it off, but Dalton won't. Dalton students are expected to uphold a code of conduct so as not to reflect badly on the school. I'm honestly surprised Sebastian wasn't expelled last year for the stunts he pulled.”

He shook himself out of his sudden tangent, and continued.

“If I send a recording of Hunter admitting to the theft of the trophy to the Dalton administration they'll have to take action. It's not a significant enough offense to get him expelled, but it would get him removed from captainship of the Warblers, and then we can put a Council in place and things will go back to the way they used to be.”

Sue surprised herself by meeting his devious smile with a genuine one of her own.

“Excellent. No matter what happens, no matter if he returns the trophy or not. He's going down. Nobody steals from Sue Sylvester and gets to brag about it!”

She quickly forwarded the recording to Trent, and he had a satisfied smirk on his face as he sent it on to the administration at the fancy prep school.

To repay him for his co-operation she summoned one of the few male members of the Cheerios and instructed him to strip down to his underwear and perform their latest routine for Trent's entertainment and pleasure.

She was honestly surprised once the performance was over when the Cheerio handed a blushing and obviously hard Trent his number with a rakish wink.

Almost as soon as he finished inputting the boy's contact details, Trent's phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number:

 

{The parking lot of the Lima Bean. Two hours. 

H.C.}

 

Sue smiled triumphantly. The capitulation of an enemy was always delicious.

…...............................................................................................................

By the time she pulled into the Lima Bean's parking lot Sue was almost ready to just give the cat back. 

Apparently her Le Car did not meet with Mr Puss' approval, and he had communicated this from his perch on Trent's lap in the passenger seat, yowling continuously for the mercifully brief car ride.

Becky, still in her 'Queen Bee' costume and clutching a spork of all things, had attempted to calm the cat by singing to it, but this had only doubled the racket she had to deal with it. 

It was a cold comfort that Trent looked similarly grateful when they arrived at their destination.

A slightly battered army surplus Jeep sat in the parking lot, the blazered figure of Clarington leaning nonchalantly against the side. She could see Smythe and the blonde Warbler sat in the back clutching the trophy between them, and didn't miss the blonde's look of relief at the sight of Trent.

She offered Clarington a cursory nod, and received one in return.

“Tell your minions to bring the trophy to me, and I'll let Trent and your precious cat go with them.”

Clarington beckoned imperiously and the other two Warblers slid out of his Jeep, carrying the trophy with a great deal of care.

She gestured for Trent to walk towards the Jeep, and he set off as soon as the Warblers started moving towards her. They crossed in the middle, and Sue kept a close eye on any attempt to snatch the cat, alert for any double-crosses.

As soon as Trent came within reach of Clarington, the head Warbler snatched the cat out of his arms, cradling the pestilential menace close and cooing into its fluffy flank. 

Almost simultaneously, the Warblers set the trophy on the ground at her feet with a faint 'clink', backing swiftly away from her while keeping their eyes on her at all times. She shot them a saccharine smile in acknowledgement of their fear, and watched them shudder.

Blonde Warbler all but bounded over to Trent and began worriedly checking him for signs of injury or mistreatment, Trent batting him away and telling him to stop fussing with a secretly pleased smile on his face.

The Warblers all climbed into the Jeep, Mr Puss in a special seat set up on the passenger side, and Trent relegated to the 'bitch' seat in the back; presumably as punishment for having allowed himself to be taken prisoner in the first place.

Before they could leave she indicated for Clarington to wind his window down, and leaned in almost conversationally.

“If you really wanted Anderson back, you'd have attacked him where it really hurts.”

Clarington's expression was avaricious at the thought of getting his cat back and possibly getting Blaine to transfer, and he gestured impatiently for her to continue.

“The love of Anderson's life has always been his hair gel. You threaten that and he'll fold like a house of cards. It also has the handy benefit of not affecting me in any way; indeed reducing the amount of hair gel I have to deal with on a daily basis would actually be an improvement to me, so I wouldn't bother to interfere.”

Clarington accepted her advice with a vaguely appreciative nod, starting the engine and leaving at a brisk pace.

Sue shooed Becky back to her Le Car, and set off back to McKinley. She'd invented some new insults to throw at Finn Hudson and couldn't wait to try them out.

….................................................................................................................

Two days later the Ohioan business world was surprised by the hostile takeover of a relatively small and unremarked manufacturer of male grooming products. Blaine Anderson's howls on being denied his precious hair gel could apparently be heard as far as New York City.

…................................................................................................................

Four days later the Ohio Show Choir blogs exploded with news that the Dalton Academy Warblers shiny new captain had been removed from his position, and from the choir, by order of the administration, and a new Council had been set up consisting of Sebastian Smythe, Jeff Sterling and Trent Nixon as the new Gavel-Man.

…..............................................................................................................

Sue smiled as she gazed upon her trophy, polished to a gleaming finish and restored to its rightful place in the choir room cabinet.

The glee club's confusion when she returned to McKinley carrying the trophy high as a token of victory had been delicious; though not as delicious as finding out Anderson had attempted a daring one-man assault on Dalton, in full, ridiculous superhero getup, to retrieve it (having failed to convince any of the other costumed idiots to accompany him)

He had been suspended from the glee club until after the upcoming Sectionals competition, and the video of him dangling from a rope trying to climb up to the balcony of Dalton's library was going viral on YouTube.

The user NotTheBoyNextDoor had left a particularly scathing comment.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a plot bunny that grew legs and just kept on running. There were times during the writing of this that I wished I'd shot it as soon as it occurred to me.
> 
> Still, it rectifies the appalling lack of Sue in 4x07, honestly she'd have had a field day laughing at all the costumes.
> 
> Plus I like my version of canon better ;-D
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
